


Beware the Listening Darkness

by SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love c onfession, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Scene: The Bus Ride (Good Omens), The Night At Crowley's Flat (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have survived Armageddon and now need to find a way to survive their upcoming trials. In their focus of the danger at hand and the joy of confessing and physically showing their love, they miss another danger entirely.Or, what if Ligur was brought back in the reset and snooped on the husbands’ plans for the body swap?If my story looks familiar it’s because it probably is. I had a different AO3 account when I started writing. It got deleted for personal reasons and this new one started. All the fics from the old account got moved to here ❤️💜💙🧡💚💛
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Beware the Listening Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Point of view switches between Aziraphale, Crowley and God. Hope you enjoy <3

How could they have known impossible things were occurring as they had waited on the bench for the bus? Comprehend what dangers awaited them at Crowley’s flat. A danger that would rear its ugly head after the coming morning’s kidnappings and trial. Overtake them only moments after they step onto the pavement outside the Ritz.

If they had known of Leslie's death, they might have seen the warning signs. But they hadn't been present for the delivery man's sacrifice, so how could they know that the kind man conversing about the afterlife was newly resurrected?

* * *

“Come on, Angel.” Crowley stands as the bus comes to a halt in front of them. Aziraphale nods, following his dark clad companion through the open folding doors.

The lights on the bus’ interior flickers ominously as the duo make their way down the narrow aisle. The night outside so dark, Aziraphale can make out nothing past his and Crowley’s reflections in the dust-stained windows.

The poor demon, Aziraphale’s best friend, and most important being in the angel’s life, looks absolutely exhausted. His thin shoulders slouch forward, the normally sleek, red hair is in disarray, as the beautiful creature takes a seat halfway past the middle and reaches a hand up to the angel. “Can you set beside me? I don't think we need to worry about being seen together anymore.”

Aziraphale gladly accepts the touch, allowing his and the demon’s fingers to entwine. “I believe you're right my dear. I would expect our relationship is well known to our former sides now.”

Crowley pulls him into the neighboring seat and with his free hand removes his dark shades, placing them on top of his mussed hair. The demon’s gold eyes are soft and searching, as his next sentence is uttered with heartbreakingly gentle care. “What is our relationship, Angel?”

Aziraphale’s heart feels full to burst and constricted simultaneously at the question. “Such a simple inquiry foreshadowing an immensely complicated answer.”

“It has been complicated, yes.” Crowley shifts to face Aziraphale better, boney knees knocking against plush thighs. “But it doesn't need to be. Not anymore, now that we may only have a few hours left.”

“Crowley please don't say that.” Aziraphale cups the back of slender fingers with his free hand, completely engulfing Crowley’s. “I need you to not give up, you've always been my strength.”

Crowley closes his eyes, blowing out a puff of air with force. He nods and reopens his dazzling pools of topaz light. The fear is still evident, but there is now a resolve in those exotic orbs as well. “I won't give up. I'll fight for and with you to the very end, Aziraphale.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale loves him. Loves Crowley with every ounce of his being. Has for millennia. He knows the demon wants to hear it, deserves to hear it, but even now with freedom or death on the horizon Aziraphale is terrified to allow the words to pass his lips. “I'll do the same for you.”

Silence falls upon them as the bus takes its newly acquired path to the city. Crowley lets his shades fall back over his eyes. Aziraphale stares at their joined hands, and considers Crowley’s question, which the angel has continued to leave unanswered. As the lights of London come into view, Aziraphale feels the words, that have slowly formulated in his mind, trickle down and finally push past is lips.

“You’re my most precious companion and trusted confidant.” The angel lifts his face as the demon turns his own from the window. Their eyes meet and the hope and longing in Crowley’s expression spurs Aziraphale onward. “You're the most important thing in my long existence, dear boy, and the only reason I haven't gone completely mad over these long centuries. You've given me something to live for, to fight for, and a reason to stand my ground. I love you Crowley, deeply and emphatically, and I always will.” He gives his demon a wobbly smile. “What sort of relationship would you call that?”

“A damn good one.” Crowley raises his unoccupied hand to cup Aziraphale’s face, and tenderly leads the angel’s lips to his. They linger like this, alternating between gentle kisses and tender caresses, until the bus stops in front of the building holding Crowley’s flat.

“I love you too, Aziraphale.” Crowley breaks their embrace to stand, tugging the angel’s hand to join him. “Let’s finish this inside and work out a plan so that tonight isn’t our goodbye, but the first night of our forever.”

* * *

Crowley pays no mind to the dark vehicle across the equally darkened street. If he had, this would have been his second clue that impossible things were happening. But no, the Bentley will be left to discovery by the morning sunlight, as will a resurrected bookshop and a death sentence.

* * *

Crowley’s sole focus is the angel at his side. The bright, beautiful angel he has loved since the beginning of time. His soulmate, who less than a quarter hour before, had finally pledged his love and devotion to a demon who would burn down the world and rebuild it by hand for nothing more than to see Aziraphale smile.

“This way, Angel.” Crowley’s thumb caresses over plump, smooth knuckles as he leads his other half past the doorman and through the lobby to the lift.

The metal barrier slides closed behind them and Aziraphale folds onto Crowley’s chest. The blond’s arms wind around a thin waist, his head resting on sharp shoulders, nose nuzzling into the demon’s neck. Soft curls tickle Crowley’s chin and a chill of excitement shoots down the length of his spine when Aziraphale’s breath ghosts across his sensitive skin.

“They won’t hurt you. I won’t let them.” Crowley wraps his own spindly arms around the shaking angel, his palms pressing against the soft fabric of his overcoat. Aziraphale is warm, real and alive and Crowley will bath in holy water before he’ll allow anyone to change that again. “I thought you were lost to me once today already. I swear from this moment on, I will keep you safe.”

“I’m not afraid of them hurting me.” Aziraphale’s shaking becomes more pronounced and Crowley realizes he’s crying. “I’ve broken both mine and your hearts millions of times over the centuries in order to keep you safe. Now that you're in my arms, now that we're free, that may be all for naught. I cannot lose you Crowley.” He raises his head, eyes swimming with tears. “I can tolerate never again seeing you, if it means you're safe, but I cannot live in a world where you are suffering or no longer exist.”

The doors open, and Crowley hurries to open his flat. Once Aziraphale is safely inside, Crowley bolts the door behind them and pulls the angel back into his arms. “There would be no worse suffering for me, than to never see you again. I’d choose eternal torment in the darkest pits of Hell, if it meant you would never, of your own free will, send me away. I will take destruction over a comfortable eternity without you.”

Aziraphale’s gaze has always been able to steal Crowley’s resolve as well as his breath. Now, kaleidoscope blue/green eyes hold Crowley entranced and waiting, once again, for whatever appeal Aziraphale is most assuredly about to ask of him.

“My darling.” The angel places his hands on each side of Crowley’s face. “I know we have only just shared our first kiss, and I will regret it immensely if this request causes you to think less of me.” Aziraphale clears his throat. “I have faith that this is not our final night together, but in case it is.” Aziraphale inhales fully and as he releases the air, he pushes out in quick succession. “Would you make love to me?”

“Aziraphale.” The name is a sacred prayer as it drifts across cursed lips. “There is nothing you could possibly do that would make me think less of you.” Crowley searches the angel’s face for any trace of doubt, any sign of hesitation. “But when we do survive this tomorrow, will you regret it? Because I’d much rather wait, than have you become uncomfortable when around me.”

“I’ve waited long enough.” The angel slides his hands to the demon’s sunglasses and waits for permission to proceed. Crowley nods and Aziraphale lifts the dark shades away, and the demon fears his eyes will give away how naked and vulnerable he feels. Aziraphale folds the glasses, placing them in Crowley’s front breast pocket, all the while staring at the demon with so much love and tenderness that Crowley thinks he may discorporate where he stands. “No matter what tomorrow brings, I want to love you tonight and every night after for as long as the two of us continue to exist.”

“Follow me then.” Crowley offers the angel his hand and leads him through the sparsely decorated flat. Leaving the foyer, the demon is careful to walk around the unholy puddle on the floor. Aziraphale squeezes his hand more firmly and gasps.

“My darling, what is that?” Crowley turns to face his best friend. Aziraphale continues to move with him, but his eyes stay locked on the misting lump of goo.

“It _was_ Ligur.” Crowley watches his Angel’s face, fearing the possible rejection this revelation may cause. Crowley may be a demon, but he’s never harmed anyone. Never been malicious toward any living, breathing creature of earth, Heaven or Hell (unless you count his plants, although he never physically harms them, only scares them into behaving). It’s one of the reasons Aziraphale loves him, because deep down he’s good, no matter how often he’s denied that accusation. But now he’s a murderer and the proof of his crime lays out before his Angel to see. “I tried telling you they were coming for me. That we should leave. I’m so sorry Angel, please try to understand.”

“Sorry?” Aziraphale pulls his eyes away from the pool of destroyed life. He looks to Crowley, his brow crinkles, creating a V-shaped line between questioning blue eyes. “For what? Defending yourself? My love, I could never fault you for that. If anything, I caused that creature’s death. I should’ve gone with you when you’d asked.”

“Nah.” Crowley pulls him near as they wander past his quaking foliage and slip through the large open doorway of his bedroom. They are chest to chest now, as Crowley twists his fingers in heavenly curls. “In this moment, I have everything I’ve ever wanted. No reason to focus on ‘What if’s’.”

Aziraphale kisses Crowley while pushing him toward the bed. They let their coats fall to the floor, hands lovingly unfastening buttons, shoes being kicked to the side, and joyful laughter as they both stumble out of their trousers. Crowley’s struggle more comical than Aziraphale’s due to the painted-on tightness of his denim.

By the time they reach the silk sheets, both man-shaped beings have discarded all but their pants. Aziraphale lays Crowley out before him, and pushes his cream boxers to the floor. Kicking them to the side, the angel crawls to lay beside his demon. His well manicured hand caressing every ridge and muscle of the demon’s lean chest.

“How lucky am I?” Aziraphale hooks a thumb under the waistband of Crowley’s pants, slipping them over narrow hips. “Thank you for this gift my love.”

“It’s always been yours to take when you were ready.” Crowley wraps one arm around Aziraphale’s strong back, the other cupping the back of his head and draws their bodies and lips together.

* * *

They make love three times that night. In, what they believe to be, the private sanctity of Crowley’s flat the walls reverberate with shouts of one another’s names, and the darkness hears tender whispers of love and eternal devotion.

In the midst of it all, a plan is formed. A dangerous plan, but one, that if accomplished, will ensure their freedom from Heaven and Hell.

Unfortunately, as Adam’s reset of the world comes to it’s culmination, it isn’t just the lovers and the surrounding darkness that are listening.

* * *

Love is a complicated creature. The word itself encompasses so many different types of emotions and actions.

It is not always pure, sometimes it’s selfish, tainted, possessive and cruel. In these instances, love is a monster with dripping fangs and destructive intent.

Other times love can become cold and indifferent. This usually comes when, in the beginning, the love was, in effect, more lust than adoration. Therefore, not so much a love at all, but what the two believed to be love based on carnal urges. This love is akin to magma, starting as something that burns and sears through everything in its path until it eventually cools into an unmoving, dead lump. It is safer and completely opposite of the aforementioned love, but in the end no less painful.

Then there is a love that sets in the middle of the two. It’s the kind that most healthy relationships are built upon. It's passionate and yet comfortable. A love that is selfless and sacrificial. It’s heat can switch from the burn of the hottest flames, but then within moments settle into the camaraderie of the dearest of long-lasting friendships.

Throughout eternity, my love has grown in this way. As a young creator, I burned with a jealous intensity for my creations. I was wrathful and full of possessive vengeance. I had millions killed and exiled for no better reason than I wanted them to love me more than others with which they were closer. More than what they are capable of loving an unseen, unknown entity. So, I caused the Fall tearing friends from friends and lovers from lovers, all because I wanted my angels to love no one but Me.

Then came humanity, and I started with the same possessive intensity. However, after Sodom and Gomorrah, the flood and the plagues of Egypt, I began to realize that what I wanted from them I was never going to get. I allowed my love to grow cold and indifferent. I was proud of them as one might be a piece of art they drew as a child, but uninterested as to whether anything of import became of it. I pulled away, let my love become stagnant, and gave free reign to Gabriel and Beelzebub to do with my creation as they saw fit.

I continued to watch you though. How could I not? I admit, I desired the entertainment. I might be indifferent, but how else was I to pass the time? The best way I can explain to make you understand my cognitive process on this is, imagine you’re laid up with nothing to do, no where to go. So, you flick on the telly, mindlessly not caring for the characters before you, but allowing them to take away your boredom. That was me, with the lot of you.

Then something I wasn’t expecting happened. I found a favorite program and I was hooked. I watched an angel and a demon navigate my world. Two born enemies that should have remained ripped apart due to my temper tantrum, learning to work together, rely on one another, become close companions and fall in love. Theirs was the third love I mentioned, steadfast and deep. They complimented each other, burned with a passion for each other, but also cared so deeply for the other as an equal, that they were content to remain nothing more than friends to keep the other safe. They kept their distance and remained appeased as long as they could have the other by their side.

They changed me in ways I didn’t know I could change, taught me things I never knew I needed to learn. Aziraphale and Crowley made me better as they made one another better. So now, as their possible deaths loom ahead, as I watch another demon stalk just outside Crowley’s bedroom, I look into Ligur’s mind and see his plan for them, and the least I can do is change Aziraphale and Crowley as well.

* * *

Aziraphale doesn’t sleep. Even now, wrapped in the warmth of Crowley’s arms, his body satiated and wonderfully sore from their long awaited consummation, the angel stays awake watching, listening and thinking.

They had worked it out, even practiced it after their second round of lovemaking, and miraculously it had worked. Aziraphale had worried that it wouldn’t, such a feat had never been heard of before between angel and demon, but it had worked! He would never tell Crowley, but it was confirmation in his heart that She was on their side as well.

His demon’s breath caresses Aziraphale’s chest, and the blond wraps his hand around the long fingers resting atop his stomach. His other arm is trapped beneath Crowley, curving to hold the demon close. With that hand, Aziraphale slides his fingers through messy, auburn hair.

“I love you.” He whispers, placing a kiss along the path his fingers have just traveled. “Please be safe, I know how this will hurt you for my sake.”

Aziraphale worries, for himself yes but not the same as he does for Crowley. Hell will be rough, they’re a violent sort but there is a method, an order one might say, to their violence. Crowley’s trip will be something entirely different. The pain of Heaven will be non-stop, the holy floor with burn his feet, the air has the potential to burn his skin. What if that level of holy energy destroys the demon completely?

Then there are the archangels, ridiculous and archaic in their ways. There is the chance that he and Crowley had read Agnes wrong and Heaven doesn’t intend to kill him with Hellfire but instead use some strange sort of baptism to wash the evil from one of their own? Aziraphale has seen them do just that in the past. Dipping an angel over and over in holy water as a way to cleanse the offending angel of their imperfections. It had worked as a sort of psychological placebo for all involved then, but if it were to happen today, it would rip from Aziraphale his very heart.

“Luf ya, too.” Crowley mumbles, his head pressing into Aziraphale’s touch. “Won’t be tha bad. Be like walkin into tha church.”

“It’s going to be a lot less pleasant on your feet than that church my dear.” Aziraphale can’t help but smile when Crowley lifts his head and looks at him through blurry, half-lidded eyes. He’s adorable, drunk on sleep and love and Aziraphale is brimming with a protective urgency. The angel needs this, wants this to be his new normal, the brilliant vision he longs to see every morning for the rest of eternity. “I’m afraid of what they’ll do to you, especially if we are found out.”

“Me too, Angel.” Crowley rests his chin on Aziraphale’s sternum, the slurring speech of sleep leaving him. “Worried for you that is, but we’ve got no other choice. You said the old witch is never wrong, let’s have faith in that then, eh?”

“You’re right.” Aziraphale holds his lover a bit closer. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”

“I’ll always come to you Aziraphale.” Crowley slithers up the angel’s body and pulls him onto his side so that they lay face to face. “No matter the obstacle or the distance, wherever you are I will always come to you.”

They kiss, each holding the other tight. This isn’t frenzied or passionate like the kisses the night before. This kiss is a promise, a commitment to forever, a seal in a pact. It doesn’t last long, but there will be time later for more. Aziraphale tells himself this at least, because without that hope, he’ll never leave this bed. Never let Crowley go from his arms and into this day of uncertainty.

* * *

When Ligur had come to earlier that night it was to the sounds of shouts and moans. He had found himself lying in the entranceway to Crowley’s study, on the cold, black, polished floor. Confused and looking about he saw that it was night when only moments before it had been day. Hastur who had been right behind him was gone. Then he remembered everything. The pain, the water, and the bucket covering his vision before everything became nothing.

He’d lurked about the flat silently, following the noises of pleasure. Was Crowley seriously performing a temptation with the trouble he was in? Hell wouldn’t reward him for such an act, not after what he’d done.

Peering slowly around Crowley’s bedroom door, the demon was nearly thrown on his ass from the love pulsating from the room. This was no act of lust, it was love, strong and powerful and Ligur nearly vomited from the goodness of it all. An urge that became even stronger when he saw who his former colleague was sharing this moment with.

That angel, the principality, the very being with which the Serpent of Eden had fucked over Armageddon. Now that angel is fucking the Serpent. No not fucking, _making love to_ , and Ligur seethed watching it.

The Duke of Hell couldn’t look any longer, but he listened as the two finished what they were doing and settled into pillow talk. Ligur’s stomach lurched at the thought of one of his own sharing something so intimately good with anyone, let alone a sodding angel!

Then he heard what it was he had waited for, their little plan to escape their executions, and the demon knew what he needed to do.

* * *

Michael is in such shock she forgets that she’s still standing in Hell, although the demon on trial has been gone for close to ten minutes. Not that it matters or that she hasn’t spent time here in the past. However, on previous visits her goal was to use or double-cross the demons at her disposal, this time it was to legitimately work together for a common goal.

“So how do we kill them now?” Michael muses, noticing too late how the other’s around her flinch and back away as she waves her arm. It’s at that moment she remembers she is holding a pitcher of holy water, and the thought brings her a bit of sadistic glee. “Heaven is never going to get the opportunity destroy your lot, if we can’t show our followers as well as you show yours that those in charge can get rid of a couple minor inconveniences.”

“You could have avoided all this embarrassment if Dagon hadn’t put up all the new security measures. Took me fucking ages to get down here, seems when you’re reported dead, ya lose your security clearance.” An impossibly familiar voice growls and Michael spins in shock, water sloshing in the pitcher. Ligur throws his hands out in front of himself and moves back into the corridor he had just stepped out of. “Watch it there mate. Fairly blessed sure I ain’t gonna get resurrected twice if ya hit me with that shit.”

“How are you here?’ Hastur begins, no longer caring about Michael and her holy water as he pushes past her to get to his companion. “I watched you die.”

“Well from what I gathered, that angel.” Ligur points down the corridor in which Crowley had previously exited. “And Crowley.” He points to the ceiling. “convinced the anti-christ to stop the war, yeah?”

Ligur’s audience merely nods in response, Michael trying to put together what has happened in his resurrection to have Ligur so turned around when referencing Aziraphale and Crowley.

With a shake of his head, Ligur continues. “Yeah, so I woke last night on Crowley’s floor, and heard the two of ‘em discussin’ that the angel’s bookshop burned and the flash bastard’s car got blown up. Then this mornin’ when they left Crowley’s flat, the car was back on the street and Crowley went wanderin’ to the bookshop that’s still standin’. So, I’m thinkin’ some things got reset.”

“What else did you learn?” Beelzebub sprawls themselves across their throne, noticeably more relaxed than they had been a quarter hour before. “Anything in the anti-christ’s magic trick that might’ve made Crowley immune to holy water?”

“Nope. What you had down here wasn’t Crowley.” The corner of Ligur’s mouth quirks skyward. “That was his angel whore.”

“Impossible.” Michael shakes her head. “Aziraphale’s a coward. He’d never walk into Hell.”

“He would for love.” Ligur gags on the word.

“Love?” Dagon stands away from the group, not daring approach the archangel with holy water. Her long teeth glinting maliciously. “Crowley actually tempted the daft thing to love him?”

“Didn’t tempt him.” Ligur looks like he might be getting ill. “Crowley’s in love with the angel too. S’why he’s in Heaven right now facing Aziraphale’s punishment.”

“Get your happy pastel ass back upstairs.” Beelzebub barks to Michael. “See if you can get our traitor down here. If Ligur’s right, yours will come running after.”

* * *

Crowley was gone by the time Michael made her way up top. What she found instead were three wide-eyed archangels and an equally frightened tiny demon who was frantically trying to re-bottle a whirlwind of hellfire. At the sight of her, three of the four frightened beings begin to babble at once.

“We’re in over our heads.” Uriel looks much too pale, her knuckles white from where she’s gripping the rope wrapped around her palms.

“He’s a monster.” “He’ll destroy us all.” Gabriel and Sandalphon squeak silmultaneoulsy. Michael wonders if they are aware they’re holding hands.

“You hold up. Don’t leave yet.” Michael calls to the small demon, who, finally having bottled up flaming destruction, stops in his tracks halfway to the lift. “Tell your boss I didn’t catch him but there is still time to do so. Ask them to meet us in St. James Park in twenty.”

He nods, apparently apprehensive but not willing to argue, then scurries on his way. Michael turns to her confused co-workers. “It is true that Aziraphale is further gone than we could have ever imagined. Just not in the way he’s led you to believe.”

* * *

It took every ounce of Crowley’s will power not to run from Heaven’s halls. Not that he was in the sort of pain Aziraphale said he would be. In fact, he wasn’t in pain at all. No, his urge to run had everything to do with making sure a certain angel in demon’s clothing was alive, healthy and whole.

He paces nervously when the lift doors close, hoping Hell wasn’t too rough with Aziraphale. He recalls the angel reaching for him, calling for someone to stop Heaven’s emissaries from dragging him away, and then Hastur cracking his angel with a crowbar to the back of his head.

What else had they done to him while he was down there? What tortures befell his pure, sweet Aziraphale while play acting as a demon? What if he was discovered? Is he still alive?

Crowley takes several deep breaths to calm himself. “Of course he’s alive. You wouldn’t be walking out these doors if he’d been discovered.”

Crowley’s pep talk does little to calm his nerves. The moment the lift opens, he power-walks through the shining lobby until his feet touch the concrete walk and then the demon breaks into a run. He doesn’t breath, not that he has to, until he reaches the park and the bench on which they were to meet comes into view. Crowley laughs, the sound a mix of relief at the knowledge Aziraphale is unscathed and outright humor faced with the ridiculous sight of himself sitting straight-backed and proper.

“Alright, Angel?” He asks settling himself into the bench beside the love of his life.

“Right as rain my dearest, and you?” Aziraphale smiles, and even on Crowley’s face it feels like the warmest of summer days.

“I’ve never been better.”

* * *

Four archangels of Heaven and four high ranking demons of Hell arrive just in time to watch the couple stand and Aziraphale invite Crowley to a meal at the Ritz.

“Do we take them now?” Dagon’s shoulders are drawn up around her ears, prepared to pounce.

“Not yet.” Beelzebub lays a hand on her arm holding her back. “Let them put their guard down a bit more, enjoy one last frivolous date. We allow them to think we’re good and rightly done with them.”

“And then we kill them both?” Ligur catches Hastur’s eyes his own full of glee.

“Yes.” Gabriel looks to Beelzebub. “And I say we let the demon watch his fat little crumpet burn before you melt him.”

“More than happy to oblige.”

* * *

Crowley feels different. He feels untouchable, but having a long-lasting, undying love reciprocated will do that, he supposes. Being with Aziraphale has always given him strength, bravery and a reason to stand up against anything. There has never been a time in history that the angel’s presence hasn’t made him feel fearless. Well, nearly fearless.

Before, the demon’s bravery had stemmed from a need to keep Aziraphale safe and by his side. But there had always been trepidation before concerning scaring the angel from his life. Crowley’s cowardice involved the angel himself, not any outside forces threatening them. The fear of going too fast, of asking too much and of letting the angel know too soon how deeply he was longed for and loved.

As of the previous evening, all those fears have vanished. They are free, Aziraphale wants him, loves him. Crowley has never been more powerful. He knew their union would be amazing, however, he hadn’t been aware it would make him feel nearly transcendent. It may be blasphemous to think, but he feels like a god.

“Cheers.” Crowley raises his glass to Aziraphale. “To the world.”

“To the world.” The words escape Aziraphale breathily, his eyes sparkling with such love and Crowley wonders if the angel feels the same as him at this moment.

They drink and Aziraphale leans towards him, laying his hand next to Crowley’s. “The music is lovely.”

“It is.” Crowley wonders if Aziraphale’s musical knowledge is up to date enough to realize this is a modern version of a nearly eight decades old song. “It fits us, don’t you think?”

“It does. The original especially, there’s been some remakes of it throughout the decades.” Aziraphale’s left hand settles over Crowley’s. “I heard a recent version not long ago that omitted some of the original lyrics.”

“I remember the first time I heard it." Crowley thinks back to that cool May night in Mayfair. It was still four months until the first of the German air raids over London. “It was May 1940. I was in my flat and heard the first few lines drifting from my Crosley and wished for two lovers to meet in Mayfair and that my winter might turn to spring.”

“How long had your winter lasted?” Aziraphale swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looks frightened, as if he fears the lover Crowley had wanted then might not have been him.

“Almost 79 years.” Crowley turns his hand so that his and the angel’s palms touched and intertwines their fingers. “Fortunately, my spring arrived 9 months later, when I found an angel in a church and he graciously allowed me back into his life.”

“Unfortunately, he was surrounded by Nazi’s.” Aziraphale blushes and squeezes the demon’s hand. “He always has been one to fall into trouble.”

“He has, must be why he fell in love with me.” Crowley tilts his head to the side and offers Aziraphale his lips. The angel happily obliges the request. They linger, lips moving against each other not caring who is watching or what those onlookers might think of them.

Eventually they part when the waiter clears his throat loudly and offers them their bill. Crowley accepts the offering before returning his full attention to his Angel. “You’ve always been worth it. I hope you know that.”

“I believe I am to you.” Aziraphale’s eyes dance across Crowley’s face, in them is that charge of love Crowley isn’t sure he deserves but knows he’ll forever gladly accept. “And your’s is the only opinion which matters to me.”

“My place or yours?” Crowley stands and after paying the bill helps Aziraphale to his feet. Hand in hand they move towards the exit of the Ritz. “That is unless, you need some space. Some time alone with your shop.”

“Not just yet, my dear.” Aziraphale leans into Crowley, laying his head against the demon’s shoulder as they walk. “I will have to tend to my business eventually, but you’re always welcome to be around anytime. Just know you may not get my undivided attention while I’m battling off customers.”

“I’ll just watch and step in when you need some back-up.” Crowley pushes open the glass door and they step onto the sidewalk. He sees the four figures as they come quickly on his Angel. He tries to pull Aziraphale behind him in order to block him from the Archangels’ approach but before he can, a series of hands grab his arms and hair as well.

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley.” His heart nearly stops, that’s Ligur’s voice. “You should make sure a demon is good and truly dead before you go about spilling intimate secrets to your boyfriend in front of the carcass.”

“Help us!” Aziraphale calls out to the other occupants of the busy street. “Please someone helps us!”

Crowley watches his Angel’s eyes blow wide as Uriel breaks rank, moving with purpose and presses cold metal to the redhead’s throat. Ligur chuckles in his ear. “They can’t hear you. We’re cloaked from their vision.”

Gabriel smirks at the demon over Aziraphale’s shoulder. His forearm is wrapped around the blond’s neck, Sandalphon and Michael stand beside him at the ready. “I’m not in the mood to hear your incessant jabber, Aziraphale. So how about you keep quiet, and that holy blade doesn’t enter your little pet’s jugular.”

“Your plaze or ourz.” Beelzebub’s voice drifts from just beyond Crowley’s sight. They sound sarcastic and he knows it’s a jab at his and Aziraphale’s conversation from mere moments earlier.

“I say we find neutral ground.” Uriel murmurs, tilting her head and eyeing the demon before her. “Maybe the bookshop? Let the demon actually watch the traitor burn there this time.”

“No.” This time it’s Dagon. Crowley wonders how many enemies are currently at his back. “Too big a chance of the fire getting out of control, what with all the paper and wood. I have a place. West Silvertown, between the Thames Barrier and the ExCel exhibition center. Giant, old, abandoned flour mill. You can’t miss it”

“I know the place.” Uriel nods. “So does Michael. Let’s go.”

* * *

It’s almost over, just one more test of love. I’ve always been fascinated by self-sacrifice because I’ve never loved anything that much Myself. If you can show Me that you’re better than Me, then I’ll make you into something just as good.

* * *

It was all so lovely, they were free and finally together. Aziraphale had the rest of eternity to make up to Crowley for all the vicious things he had said and done throughout history to keep him away and safe. And just as the principality finally had everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever dreamt of, Crowley is ripped from his grasp.

One second Aziraphale is cuddled against Crowley’s side, anticipating another night like the one before and the next Crowley has a blessed knife to his throat and they are being hurtled through time and space to the other side of the city.

With a loud pop, Aziraphale finds himself on the roof of a derelict building. The structure stands eight stories high, the wind from the river adding a chill to the summer breeze. That and the fact Crowley still has a deadly knife to his throat causing the principality’s blood to run cold.

“So, we have a little proposition.” Uriel drops the blade from where it’s aimed and turns to Aziraphale.

“Our thinking is that one of you may be more likely to fight the opposition if his little distraction is out of the way.” Beelzebub steps from behind Crowley and moves into Aziraphale’s space. “Our offer goes to you little angel. You can have one of three choices, for both of you to be forced into destruction, for Crowley to die and you to rejoin the ranks of Heaven, or for you to sacrifice yourself and Crowley will rejoin the armies of Hell.”

“No!” Crowley struggles against his captors’ hold. “Me! I’ll die, let me choose!”

“Not your call, Crowley.” Gabriel tuts. “We already know what you’d choose, you’ve been choosing the risk of extinction since Eden just to stand by his side. We’re more interested in the coward’s choice.”

It has to be a trick, Aziraphale knows that. They think he’ll falter in his decision, that he might even betray the demon he loves. Forcing him to live with the guilt of his choice. Heaven doesn’t know him at all, but the fear in Crowley’s eyes tells Aziraphale his lover does. And this choice will hurt the sweet demon more than betrayal. “I’ll die for him, Fall for him. Whatever punishment you have for me, I’ll take it if you please just allow him to live in peace.”

“Aziraphale no!” Crowley becomes nearly crazed in Ligur’s grasp and his arms break free from the Duke of Hell’s hold. Uriel turns the dagger towards him again. “Go ahead, run me through. I won’t let you hurt him!”

“Stand down or we’ll kill you both.” Gabriel pushes Aziraphale forward and Beelzebub throws down a ball of hellfire at the blond’s feet. It quickly encircles him before either he or Crowley have time to react. “This isn’t your choice Crowley. Aziraphale wants control over his existence, we’re finally giving that to him. He’s decided.”

Another ring of flame erupts from Michael’s hand, encircling Crowley as well. This fire a brilliant blue and pulsating with holy energy. “Of course, if he changes his mind, you can step into the holy flames instead. Don't take all day.”

“We’re not both of us getting out alive, my darling.” Aziraphale looks over the top of the flames into Crowley’s molten, gold eyes. The light from the fire causing the tears accumulating there to shine all the more prominently. “I’m sorry.”

“I won’t go back to them.” Crowley shakes his head. “I can’t do this without you Angel. I’ll have nothing left. Stay, do Her will, the world needs you.”

“It was a month.” Aziraphale’s eyes begin to burn with his own tears. “March of 1941.”

“What?” In Crowley’s confusion and distress he doesn’t even seem to notice the holy flames moving closer to him.

“When I first heard the song, it was a month after you rescued me from the church.” Aziraphale knows this conversation may seem inappropriate for their current predicament, but what else is there to say? He wants Crowley to know that Aziraphale has loved and pined for him, maybe not as long as the demon has but just as deeply and sincerely. “I hadn’t told you, but I kept tabs on you during those years apart. I knew of your flat in Mayfair, even if I refrained from telling you as much. So, when the first lines of the song had reached out to me, how could I think of anyone but you?”

Aziraphale feels on the verge of insanity and maybe their current situation has made him as such, but the lyrics fall from him. Not as a song but as poetry. “When two lovers meet in Mayfair, so the legends tell, songbirds sing, winter turns to spring. Every winding street in Mayfair falls beneath the spell. I know such enchantment can be, ‘cause it happened one evening to me.”

“I may be right, I may be wrong but I’m perfectly willing to swear. That when you turned and smiled at me, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.” Crowley responds, skipping the chorus. There is no need for it, they both know that neither of them are referencing the day they met, or separately shared nights from nearly 80 years earlier. But instead the night before, the first and last night of open fulfillment either would get with the other. For the next few lines the demon looks about at the spectators watching his and his Angel's shared demises. Because they will be shared, won’t they? Angel and demon incapable of going off without the other. “The moon that lingered over London town, poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown.”

“How could they know, we two were so in love? The whole darn world seemed upside down.” Aziraphale isn’t singing about the moon, nor is Crowley, so the pronoun change seems just.

“The streets of town were paved with stars it was such a romantic affair. And as we kissed and said goodnight.” Crowley chokes on the words.

_This is goodbye. He’s saying goodbye_. Aziraphale’s own tears fall unrestrained and he finishes their farewell. “When dawn came stealing up all gold and blue.” _Like our eyes meeting one last time, my love._ “To interrupt our rendezvous, I still remember how you said ‘Was that a dream or was it true?’”

“A dream come true, Angel.” Crowley interrupts their shared lyrics. “I can’t persuade you to reconsider, can I Dove?”

“No, my dearest. I refuse to go on without you.” Aziraphale doesn’t want this spell to be broken, but it is now, isn’t it? “Together then?”

“Together.” Crowley nods and each of them step into their own flames.

* * *

Aziraphale and Crowley stare at one another in shared confusion. The flames not only don’t hurt, but don’t even singe. Not a hair, not a spec of cloth on either entity ignites.

“What is this?” Gabriel gasps.

“Another trick!” Ligur growls.

“They muzzt’ve not zzwitched back.” Beelzebub buzzes, inflaming the hellfire to combust even further out engulfing both entities.

“The holy water, Michael!” Uriel calls to her coworker and a pitcher of the stuff is thrown on both the offending angel and demon.

Crowley laughs nearly maniacally and takes Aziraphale’s hand. The flames around them put out by the liquid which has now drenched the couple. His Angel joins in his happy hysterics, neither sure what’s going on, but relieved beyond measure it is.

“Enough.” None of them had noticed my arrival, too engrossed as they were in the show before them. Four archangels fall to their knees in reverence, four demons stand in defiance, and one angel and one demon look upon Me in a daze. “They have won my favor and will be left alone to guard my earth.”

“But Lord.” Gabriel keeps his gaze to the dirty rooftop beneath his knees. “They have averted Your Great Plan.”

“That was never my plan, it was a plan written by human men and one you decided to push for your own gains.” I look between Gabriel and Beelzebub. “I had no plan, Ineffable or Great, before this day.”

“And what is your plan now, my Lord?” Uriel bows humbly before me and I see into her heart. It’s a heart willing to serve that has been led astray.

“I have elevated both the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley to a status only one rung below Mine.” With these words all four archangels look up to me in disbelief, four demons’ haughtiness is replaced by fear and a single angel and demon look to me wide eyed and hopeful. “Think of them as Gods as well, and the official stewards of what was once My earth. They’ve taught Me how to do this more correctly.”

“I don’t understand.” Aziraphale’s voice quakes and when I turn My eyes upon him, he places himself between Me and his demon lover protectively.

“This world is yours. I place it under your’s and Crowley’s defense.” I say to them gently before turning My gaze on the others. “I am off to create again, in another pocket of the universe. You each have a choice. To come and serve under Me, or stay and serve under them.”

“King Luzzzifer will not zztand for thizzzz!”

I smile upon my former seraphim. Beelzebub has always been so forceful and I can't help but respect them for that. “Lucifer has already conceded. After his son disowned him, he’s agreed he needs to make some changes of his own. He is coming with Me and has handed his power to Crowley.”

I laugh and give a wave of my hand. “You all have a day to decide, but you will immediately leave these premises, and give My equals their much needed space.”

There are no more open arguments as eight of the ten beings disappear from My presence with a pop. I look to Aziraphale and Crowley one last time. “The earth is rightfully yours to do with as you please. Your union has My full blessing. May you and your home grow and prosper.”

And with that, I leave them as well.

* * *

“Angel?” Crowley finally finds the ability to speak. “Was that real?”

“It was.” Aziraphale turns to face him and this time his cheeks are dampened with tears of joy. “We’re free. Right and truly, free darling.”

“Ngk.” The demon’s mouth opens and closes multiple times, a string of incoherent noises follow each movement. He finally gets himself together enough to say. “I don’t know about free. We’ve just been handed a big ass responsibility.”

“Yes, yes we have my darling, but it’s one we get to handle together.” Aziraphale kisses him and Crowley begins to feel like this might work.

“Together?” Crowley sniffles, nodding his head as they pull apart. “Yeah, it’s our and it’s ours together.”

“I love you Crowley.” Aziraphale is glowing with relief and it’s the most beautiful thing Crowley has ever seen. “Let’s go live our lives and protect our world.”

“I love you too, Angel.” And as always, Crowley lets Aziraphale lead him toward whatever adventure is next.

**_“Our homeward step was just as light_ **

**_As the tap-dancing feet of Astaire._ **

**_And, like an echo far away._ **

**_A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square._ **

**_I know, ‘cause I was there._ **

**_That night in Berkeley Square.”_ **


End file.
